


In Friendship's Name

by skieswideopen



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skieswideopen/pseuds/skieswideopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Ronon provide back-up for Teyla when a rescue mission goes awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Friendship's Name

**Author's Note:**

> Written for satedan_grabass on LiveJournal. My thanks to scrollgirl for beta reading.

John took a sip of the sour beer Ronon had ordered for both of them, and surveyed the dim, damp bar once again. He tried to keep his surveillance casual, to give the appearance of a man who was only interested in minding his own business, but he knew that he was probably failing. He didn't doubt Teyla's ability to look after herself, but a cryptic message coming on the heels of a two-week solo mission had left him on edge.

"It's getting late," he said. He tightened both hands around his glass, resisting the urge to drum his fingers on the scarred wood of the table. "Are you sure this is where she said they'd be?"

Ronon swallowed a healthy mouthful of beer. "Yeah."

"Seems kind of rundown."

"They're slavers," Ronon said, in a tone that asked where exactly John had expected slavers to meet.

"In my experience, bad guys are just as capable of meeting in nice, bright rooms as in dark little corners," John replied mildly. "And it seems like these guys should at least be able to afford drinks in a place with a solid roof." He nodded toward the multiple puddles that spotted the floor, the bar owners apparently having no use for buckets. Or upkeep.

"The government likes to pretend they aren't letting the Varezi work out of Merisle. That's easier if they stay out of sight. The Varezi go along with it because they want to keep meeting her."

John raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I thought slavery was allowed here?"

"People don't like the Varezi."

"I can certainly understand that." The Varezi weren't the only ones who viewed newly culled planets as easy targets, but they were, as far as John knew, the only ones who made a point of enslaving the survivors as well as robbing them.

He scratched absently at his shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in the too-warm wool tunic. "Remind me again why we're posing as sheep farmers?"

"The Kaina use slaves in their fields. There's not much central organization there. Lots of holders buy independently."

"Right." John lifted his glass again and grimaced at the taste. He glanced at Ronon from the corner of his eye, contemplating whether to ask the question that had occurred to him when they first found what was left of Eritana, and John had learned that that slavery was alive and well in select parts of the local galaxy. _What the hell_, he decided. Elizabeth had always stressed the importance of learning about the cultures they dealt with. "Did you have many slaves on Sateda?"

Ronon stopped scanning the bar long enough to _look_ at him. "No."

John wasn't sure the look meant that Ronon was offended, or just incredulous. "Okay." He leaned back in his rickety chair, and forced down another mouthful of beer.

"Do your people?" Ronon asked.

"What? Keep slaves?"

Ronon nodded, eyes back on the entrance.

"No. Not in a long time." At least in John's part of the world.

"I think farmers are the main market here," Ronon said. "They need the extra hands."

"Right."

They sat in silence for a moment, and John's thoughts strayed back to Teyla. Their plan--carefully conceived over John's strident objections--had called for her to return to Atlantis when she finished her reconnaissance so that they could figure out the next step. There'd been nothing in it about setting up a meet with the Varezi. John assumed the slavers had been listening when Teyla had dialled the marine training outpost at Pash, because she hadn't offered much more than the time and place for the meeting, and a hint about who she'd told them she represented. That meant the Varezi was holding her, and if they'd caught her sneaking around....

"She'll be all right," Ronon said. "She's good."

John smiled wryly. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

That got him the _look_ again, like John was being incredibly, inexplicably dense. "You don't like sending anyone out alone."

"Not really," John agreed.

"Teyla can handle herself."

"Everyone needs backup sometimes."

"You go on missions alone," Ronon pointed out.

"Only when I manage to evade you _and_ Teyla _and_ McKay. And Lorne. Once I slip past all of you, getting by the enemy is easy." John kept his tone light, smirk firmly in place. He knew Ronon wouldn't buy it, but that he'd let it slide anyway. Ronon's willingness--eagerness, even--to avoid all discussions of feelings and motivations was one of the things John liked most about him. And John didn't see any reason to discuss this, since he was well aware of his own double standards when it came to sending his people out on dangerous missions. That did raise another issue, though. "What would you do if I didn't come back from a mission?"

"I'd find you."

"Okay. And if you found me dead?"

"I'd hunt down whatever killed you."

"Well, yeah. But after that."

Ronon twisted slightly, angling his body toward John and giving him a quick, puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"You stayed with Atlantis because I asked you to, right? And you haven't really... you still don't hang out with many people besides Teyla and me. If I weren't there--"

"Teyla would stay," Ronon interrupted.

"So you're there as long as Teyla is?"

Ronon shrugged noncommittally.

John sighed, and wondered how the hell he was going to explain it to them when the Air Force finally recalled him to Earth. How do you tell people that you're walking away from the fight that's defined their entire lives--a fight that they _can't_ walk away from--after you've declared yourself their ally and called them family? He'd done it once before, but it had been a little clearer then that he hadn't had a choice. Not really. But to leave when everyone else on Atlantis was staying... he wasn't sure he'd stick around in Ronon's shoes.

Ronon stiffened beside him, hand falling automatically to the gun in his lap. John followed his gaze to the door. It wasn't, as he had hoped, Teyla and the Varezi. Instead, a group of heavily armed newcomers were spilling through the door. Their uniform of black leather and violent tattoos reminded John a little of a gang. By their expressions, they were spoiling for a fight.

"Just what we need," John muttered. He lowered his glass slowly, and turned toward the door, eyes fixed on the gang, body language relaxed and confident. When one dark-haired man turned toward him, John looked straight at him and smiled lazily, then hardened his expression, letting the monster peer out around the edges. The man met his eyes calmly, evaluating him, and for a moment John thought they were in trouble. Then the rest of the group began to stomp noisily toward the other side of the bar, and after a moment, the dark-haired man turned and followed.

John let out his breath slowly, and turned back to his beer and the question of how to get Ronon to understand the importance of having a plan that extended beyond John's tenure in Atlantis. Before he had a chance to pursue it, the door to the bar opened again. This time, only three people came inside. Two of them were heavily muscled men, one dark and one fair, both dressed finer clothing than anyone else in the bar. The third was Teyla.

John felt a tight knot of tension release at the sight ofTeyla alive and seemingly uninjured, to be replaced by a new form of tension as he noticed that taller of the men was maintaining a tight grip on her arm. "Showtime," he said quietly, and touched the handgun resting in his lap. Ronon nodded assent.

The three of them paused inside the entrance, and Teyla began looking around the bar. John resisted the urge to wave at her, but he did smile a little when she finally caught sight of them. Teyla didn't return his smile, but he thought he caught a hint of relief in her expression. She spoke to the two men with her, and the three of them made their way over to John and Ronon.

The shorter of the two men sat down across from John, smiling genially. The taller one shoved Teyla roughly into the chair across from Ronon and turned so that he could keep an eye on the rest of the room. John schooled his expression into neutrality, and silently promised they'd pay for every injury and indignity.

"I'm told you're looking for slaves," the shorter man said.

"That's right," John replied evenly. He shifted the gun in his lap, calculating the angles needed to take out both men quickly with minimal risk to bystanders.

"You have an interesting approach." The Varezi slaver nodded toward Teyla, whose hands, John noticed, were cuffed together. "We don't like people poking into our business."

"We don't like buying unhealthy merchandise," John countered. "It doesn't last."

"We always give our clients the chance to examine before they buy."

"That doesn't tell us as much as seeing how they're kept behind-the-scenes."

"No, I suppose not," the Varezi replied thoughtfully. He tapped neatly trimmed fingernails against the table. "But it's a problem, you see, because we normally consider all outsiders found on our land to be our property."

"Try walking out of here with her," Ronon said flatly.

Teyla looked at them warningly.

"I may," the slaver said. "And I'd make it too. Or did you think we came alone?"

"We're just looking to do business here," John said reasonably before Ronon could test the threat. "If you decide she's property, then we'll pay for her, but you won't get anything else out of us. And I've heard you're suffering from an excess of stock." That last was a guess, based on recent Wraith activity and the fact that the men had shown up for the meeting rather than just selling Teyla immediately.

"The Wraith have been active lately," the Varezi agent agreed. "But there's always a market. And we're never certain of reaching a newly culled world in time to find it still in disarray." He cocked his head, studying them. "Kaina, are you?"

"That's right." The wool began itching again at the reminder.

"Your people are usually good clients. But I don't remember any of the others mentioning you."

"We keep to ourselves on the hold. Don't have much to do with strangers."

The Varezi nodded slowly. "Sounds like the Kaina. I'm Berl."

"Nice to meet you, Berl."

Berl chuckled. "You're Kaina, alright. What kind of merchandise are you looking for?"

"Farmhands," Ronon said immediately. "We need people working the fields so that our people can concentrate on taking out the flocks."

"As I told you," Teyla said impatiently.

Berl pursed his lips. "Trained farmhands are expensive. We've got lots of nomads, but we don't get many from farming worlds."

"As long as they're strong and healthy, we can train them," John said.

"Oh, they're strong enough. They outran the Wraith, after all."

"Could have been hurt in the process," Ronon pointed out.

"I'm sure you'll be able to spot any such injuries," Berl said smoothly.

"I'm sure we will," John agreed. "But if we're going to do business, then you need to uncuff her first."

"After we have a deal," Berl said. "What are you offering in the way of payment?"

"What are you looking for?" John asked cautiously. He'd been hoping to walk away from this meeting without giving up anything. He wasn't sure what he could offer that wouldn't give away the fact that they weren't Kaina.

"Oh, the usual sorts of things," Berl said.

"We can give you three barrels of wool per slave," Teyla said.

"We're a little oversupplied with wool right now," Berl said. "It's hard to move. Now weapons, on the other hand, are always in demand."

"Pick something else," John said.

"I'm not sure there is anything else," Berl said. He smiled coldly, teeth flashing dully in the low light. "Kaina knives are really what we want right now."

"We cannot--" Teyla began.

"All right," John said easily, changing tactics. Berl, he decided, wasn't falling for the act. "Knives it is."

"And guns," said the tall man behind Berl without turning around.

"And guns," John agreed. He slid his own gun into his pocket and stood up abruptly. Ronon followed suit. "But first we see the stock."

"Of course," Berl agreed, rising. He reached down and jerked Teyla to her feet. Ronon glared.

"Lead the way," said John, gesturing.

"Oh, no, I insist," Berl said with exaggerated courtesy.

"Whatever you say," John replied. He slid out from behind the table and began making his way rapidly through the crowd without checking whether the others were following. The uneven placement of the tables--situated to avoid the holes in the roof and the subsequent puddles--prevented him from heading directly toward the door. He stretched out the route a little more, circling the bar, making his way to the other side of the room. As he neared one particular table, he glanced backwards. Ronon was directly behind him, and grinning knowingly. Teyla was between the two slave merchants, but neither of them was holding onto her. John caught her eye, and she gave a slight nod.

He turned around and took a clumsy step forward, tripping over the person seated in front of him. The whole table rose as one. John ducked under a punch and stretched out a foot to trip the dark-haired man he'd stared down earlier before twisting sharply to drive an elbow into the neck of his first attacker. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronon grab Berl and throw him into the nearest combatant. Teyla, in the meantime, had turned on the Varezi behind her. As soon as both slavers were down, John called out to his team and began pushing his way to the door as quickly as he could. Their attackers followed, weapons coming out as they neared the door. They tumbled out of the bar as a group, surprising the cloaked Varezi guards who were huddled outside the door in the cold rain. The startled guards raised their weapons, but the bar patrons fired first.

John, Ronon, and Teyla broke away from both groups, and raced across a slippery open field toward to the cloaked jumper. John heard a shout behind him and zigzagged, hoping fervently that the guns were as primitive as they'd looked. He heard a loud crack behind him, assumed that meant he wasn't hit, and then they were in the jumper.

"You okay?" Ronon asked Teyla as the three of them collapsed on the benches in the rear compartment of the jumper, soaked and panting.

"I am uninjured," she replied, sounding tired. "They have more men guarding the gate."

"We can wait them out," John said. "They aren't going to find us." He drew in a deep breath and leaned back, examining Teyla, reassuring himself that she was safe. He frowned as his gaze fell on the cuffs still binding her wrists. "I'm not sure we can do anything about those here, but McKay--"

Teyla raised her hands, holding out a small, copper-coloured key. "If you would," she said.

Ronon grinned and took the key. "Pick it up in the fight?" he asked as he unlocked the cuffs.

"Before that," she said. "Just after we came through the stargate. But I did not have the opportunity to use it." She began massaging her wrists. "Thank you."

"So what happened?" John asked. "I thought you were going to find out where the Varezi were keeping their prisoners, then report back."

"I could not get close enough to see what address they dialled," Teyla replied. "Eventually I decided to sneak in through the gate after them, to see if I could determine the location once I was there. They caught me."

"I'm sorry," John said sincerely. "I know how much you wanted to find Sora."

Teyla raised her head and smiled. "I did not say they caught me immediately."

"Sora?" Ronon asked.

"I freed her and several others from their bonds before the Varezi captured me. I told Sora to lead them to Eritana if they got away."

"I would have thought that was the last place she'd want to return to," John said. He paused. "Besides one."

"It is a safe place," Teyla said quietly. "Neither the Wraith nor the Varezi are likely to return for some time."

No one would be returning there for a long time. Not with the level of destruction they'd found.

"It must have been hard on her," John said. "Exile, the Wraith, and the Varezi all in a matter of weeks."

Teyla leaned back against the wall of the jumper and closed her eyes. "She is very strong. Given time, she will recover."

"Time and a place to go," Ronon said.

"My people will take her in," said Teyla. "If she will have us."

John gave her a comforting smile. "She's lucky to have a friend like you. Not too many people are willing to risk their lives to save someone who once tried to kill them."

"You've tried to kill both of us," Ronon observed.

"Yeah, but I wasn't exactly in my right mind at the time. And I apologized."

"Sora was starting to come around when Atlantis released her," Teyla said. "I believe her exile has caused her to re-evaluate the situation further."

"She didn't exactly get a hero's welcome at home," John agreed.

"She may not be a hero, but she was once a friend," Teyla said. "And I hope she will become one again."

John stood up and stretched. "And on that note, let's see if the gate's clear so that we can go pick her up."

"Do you think Mr. Woolsey will allow Sora back into Atlantis?" Teyla asked.

John hesitated, reminded that for all Teyla's brave worlds, letting Sora join the Athosians wasn't going to be a simple matter. He wasn't quite sure how Woolsey was going to respond to that particular request. "I think Atlantis is a good place for second chances," he said finally, wishing that he could promise more.

Ronon followed him to the front of the jumper. "Sheppard."

John settled into his seat, hands gliding over the controls. "Yeah?"

Ronon sat down in the co-pilot's seat. "Depends on who's in charge."

"I'll keep that in mind," John said, and lifted off.


End file.
